


A Batshit Crazy Idea

by tbossjenn



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV), Sons of Liberty (TV)
Genre: Crack, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:26:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tbossjenn/pseuds/tbossjenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate universe in which Sam Adams and John Hancock are the Two Witnesses fighting evil in Sleepy Hollow</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Liberty Bell was Cracked so it Wouldn't Make Any More Witches.... Don't Ask

John Hancock finished speaking, and he folded his arms to wait for Sam’s response.

“Let me make sure I have this right,” Sam Adams said finally. “The war isn’t about independence; it’s about keeping the forces of Hell from taking over humanity?”

“Yes.”

Sam looked from John to Ben Franklin and then to General Washington. “But we just declared independence last week! What happened to ‘Gage is a cancer’ and all that?”

“It’s to cover up the real war,” Franklin said. “The fight for humanity is far more important than our independence.”

“If Hell wants us so badly what are we supposed to do about it?” Sam demanded.

“Mr. Franklin and myself belong to a secret organization that’s fighting against the evil,” Washington said. “Thomas Jefferson and your cousin are part of it too.”

Sam glanced over at John. “What about you?”

“I’m a witch.”

“Right, I’m not sure how drunk I am but this joke isn’t very funny.”

“You want proof? Just watch!” John turned and pointed his hands at the inkwell on a nearby table. “ _Wingardium Leviosa!”_

Sam gaped as the inkwell rose into the air and hovered there. He walked over and waved his hand around and under it. “Outstanding. Have you always been able to do this?”

“No, we rang the Liberty Bell and awakened his latent witch powers,” Franklin replied. If asked, he also would have mentioned that the bell is associated with an ancient pagan ritual that sparks the power of those with witch heritage.

“Without his powers Hancock’s completely useless,” Washington added. “He can’t shoot worth a damn and his money’s run out…”

“Yes, thank you very much, General Washington. We all take your meaning.” John turned to Sam. “I know you don’t understand, but you’re very important. Both of us are. Mr. Franklin says we’re the two witnesses as foretold by the Book of Revelation. We have to fight the Apocalypse!”

“How did he come by that conclusion?”

Franklin huffed. “I’ll have you know, sir, that I am the smartest man in the world. I did invent electricity, after all.”

Sam studied each of them. All three looked deadly serious. Plus John had made a pot of ink float in the air. “Fine. What do we have to do?”

“It is paramount that both of you survive to the year 2015,” Washington replied. “That’s when the apocalypse is going to happen.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!” Sam burst out. “All of us will be long dead and buried by then. Why is it our concern?”

John looked disappointed. “Sam, I thought you cared more for the greater good than for yourself.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Is there a plan for keeping us alive that long?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to spend the next two hundred and thirty-nine years in Purgatory, Mr. Adams,” Franklin said.

“We’re Protestants. We don’t believe in Purgatory.”

“Nonetheless, it exists. And it will keep you in an un-aging limbo until you’re needed in the future.” Franklin turned to John. “Mr. Hancock, if you please?”

Holding a special map, John stepped forward and intoned, “We the penitent with humble heart, upon this threshold do summon thee in mirrored form appear a gateway to the world between worlds.”

There was a bright flash and part of the wall exploded in a slow cacophony of glass shards. Through the jagged opening Sam could make out an arched stone hallway leading out into a wood. The Philadelphia meeting house was most definitely not in the middle of a wood.

 “What’s Purgatory like?” Sam asked.

“It’s a waking nightmare,” Washington replied.

“That doesn’t sound too good. There must be some other way.”

“I’m afraid there’s not,” John answered, standing beside him. Sam nodded, and together they walked toward the threshold.

“At least I’ll have decent company,” Sam said.

“Actually, no you won’t.” Then John shoved Sam through the gateway.

Sam whirled around. “You son of a bitch! When I get out of here -“  And then with a flash, the gate snapped shut.

“You really think this was the best way to handle that?” John asked the others.

“He wouldn’t have gone through with it otherwise,” Franklin replied. “He’ll be fine. What you need to worry about now is learning how to use your powers.”

“I did fine with the levitating and opening the gate.”

“Those are the two easiest spells in the world. Anybody can do that.”

“Gentlemen, if you’ll excuse me I’ll be heading back to the battlefield now,” Washington said.

“No. We need you to teach Hancock how to fight,” Franklin replied. “His powers won’t be enough.”

“What about the war?”

Franklin snorted. “Fighting a war with England for independence is a batshit crazy idea. Now let’s get started on John Hancock’s witch training.”


	2. "Even Rocky Had a Montage"

George Washington and his troops kept fit by marching everywhere. Samuel Adams kept fit by running across rooftops. Apparently sitting behind a desk all day and riding around in a carriage didn’t keep anybody fit, so John Hancock was running laps around Philadelphia. Fortunately for him, the city limits didn’t extend much further beyond 7th Street back in 1776.

John had never been in fistfight so Washington had him punching butchered meat. Franklin didn’t see the point in this, since dead cows don’t fight back. So he took Hancock to some of the worst taverns in the city and made him pick fights with sailors who’d just stepped off the boat from a long stretch at sea and hadn’t gotten any women yet.

A very tired and pummeled John Hancock later met General Washington in a field near Mud Island Fort. Washington showed him the finer points of stabbing a straw dummy with a sword.

“I don’t understand. Shouldn’t I be spending more time learning how to shoot?” John asked.

“Muskets are no good in hand to hand combat. I doubt shooting a firearm will be a useful skill in 2015.”

Of course, Franklin didn’t the see the point in stabbing straw since scarecrows don’t fight back. So he took Hancock to some of the most dangerous back alleys in Philadelphia to duel vengeful Spaniards.

Though it wasn’t physically taxing, John’s witch power training was infinitely more stressful. This was because Ben Franklin was a demanding perfectionist. John must have turned a rat into a wine goblet a thousand times before Franklin was satisfied he had it right. Also John had no idea what the practical application of this spell was supposed to be.

“I already told you, Mr. Hancock. You have to start with the easy spells first and work your way up.”

“How is this supposed to help me defeat Satan?”

Franklin burst out laughing. “Good God, man! You really think we’d send _you_ and _Sam Adams_ to the future if we had to worry about _Satan_?!” He was laughing so hard he started gasping for air.

“Fine, who am I fighting then?” John groused.

Franklin wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’re fighting Moloch. He’s a demon of Hell. But make no mistake, he’s dangerous and he can bring about the apocalypse.”

Before long, John mastered Lumos, Nox, Petrificus Totalus, Expelliarmus, Expecto Patronum, Riddickulus, Obliviate, and Alohomora . “So when am I going to learn the good spells?” he asked Franklin.

“What do you mean?”

John flipped to the last chapter of the spellbook. “Imperio, Crucio, Avada Kedavra. I’ll be learning those next?”

Franklin snapped the book shut. “No. Those spells are evil and you can never use them.”

“But they’re the most effective spells in this whole stupid book.”

“Good cannot use evil to defeat evil or you’ll wind up in Hell yourself. You’ll use pointless spells with humorous names or nothing.”

Soon John and General Washington rode up to Sleepy Hollow in New York, a village with absolutely zero strategic value in the war with England but for some reason had become spook central in the realm of the supernatural. Franklin stayed behind in Philadelphia because he was in the middle of inventing the glass armonica.

John’s first mission was to take out a masked soldier known only as “the Hessian.” When John finally encountered the man on the battlefield, he nearly soiled himself. The Hessian was huge and otherworldly. And he wielded a broad axe which he used to lop off heads left and right.

John kept shouting ‘Petrificus Totalus!’ at him but it wasn’t working, and he brought his sword up just as the Hessian swung his axe. John was pleased to discover he was holding his own in the sword fighting department. Then the Hessian’s axe buried itself in John’s chest. John cursed, and then he swung his sword at the Hessian’s neck. The sword severed the Hessian’s head from his body.

John collapsed to the ground. He was dying. Now how was he supposed to meet Sam Adams in the future?

Suddenly, George Washington was standing over him. “Sorry about this, Mr. Hancock, but it was the only way.” Washington pushed John closer to the headless body, and John’s blood began mingling with that of the Hessian’s. “The two of you are now bound by blood, and when one of you wakes in 2015 then so will the other.”

“Do you mean to say,” John wheezed, “That in 2015 there’ll be a witch who will know to come wake me up?”

Washington stopped short. “Umm…”

“Or will someone come looking for the Hessian and bring _him_ back to life?” Washington didn’t answer, so John said, “Either way, wouldn’t it have been better to leave both of us dead so that the Hessian couldn’t come back? He _is_ the one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Washington replied.

“And why did I have to die to begin with? I could have just gone to Purgatory with Sam!” But then Hancock died so everything went dark.


	3. “No TV and no beer make Homer … something, something…”

Sam followed the road through the wood and eventually came upon a tavern. Purgatory didn’t seem too different from his own world. Until he tried to order a pint of ale.

“There’s no alcohol, thanks to you,” the barkeep replied.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sam demanded.

“Everybody gets a personal form of punishment, so Purgatory changes every time we get someone new. That means no more alcohol.”

“Yes, thank you very much for that, Sam,” a voice called out from the corner. “Drinking was the only thing that made this place bearable.”

Sam turned and couldn’t believe his eyes. “Kelly and Dr. Warren? What are you two doing here?”

“We fell at Bunker Hill,” Warren said.

 “But you were both the best of men. You shouldn’t be in a place like this.”

“I killed some people,” Kelly answered.

“I slept with Gage’s wife,” Warren said. “What about you?”

“I’m not dead. Benjamin Franklin and George Washington say I’m a Witness to the Apocalypse.”

Kelly whistled. “Witness, eh? That’s sounds pretty important.”

“I don’t know,” Sam answered, shrugging. “I still think they pulled a prank on me.”

“Purgatory’s not all bad. The food’s pretty good.”

Sam declined, and for some reason Kelly and Warren looked peeved by this. Sam said, “Is there anything to do around here? Apparently I have over two hundred years to kill.”

“We’ll give you the grand tour,” Warren said.

Leaving the tavern, they were back in the dark creepy wood. Sam could hear moaning and chains rattling, and soon they came upon a field filled with people torturing themselves. A woman was eating mud and crying. One man was flogging himself, while another was pulling out his toenails. Another woman was screaming and tearing at her hair.

“See him, there?” Kelly said, pointing at a man who was lying on the ground writhing in agony while an eagle ate at his liver. “Once the eagle finishes, the liver grows back and the bird starts eating it all over again. Over and over and over.”

“What’s his story?” Sam asked, pointing at another man walking by.

Warren leaned in and said, “You know that dream where you’re naked in front of everybody? That poor bastard is stuck in that dream.”

“So the rest of us have to suffer for it?” Sam demanded. “Why doesn’t he just put on clothes? Why are these people letting this happen to them? I don’t see anyone forcing them into it.”

“This is Purgatory.”

“So?”

“So you’re supposed to suffer until you’re cleansed enough to go to Heaven.”

“What about you two? You’re not doing anything like that.”

“We did just get here ourselves,” Kelly answered. “The self-flagellators invited us to join their group.”

“Yes, but I think I might prefer rolling a boulder uphill,” Warren said.

Kelly rolled his eyes. “Not that again. At least you can get creative when you’re hitting yourself. Rolling a boulder is exactly what it sounds like, isn’t it?”

“Is this it?” Sam asked. “Nothing but woods and darkness and people hurting themselves?”

“There’s a church, but you should avoid that place. There’s a red haired woman always hanging around there and she’s horrible.”

 “Why don’t we go back to the tavern and get something to eat?” Warren said. “You must be starving, Sam.”

 “No, thanks.” Sam replied.

“Come on, how about some hot wings?”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Quesadillas? Sliders? Mozzarella sticks?”

“There’s no point eating bar food without beer to wash it down.”


	4. A Gross Misuse of Lieutenant Abbie Mills

 John Hancock sat up, coughing and retching. He was in a dark cave, covered in dirt. And his mouth tasted like something had crawled in there and died. The last thing he remembered was the Hessian. And George Washington. That white-wigged bastard.

There was something in John’s lap. Picking it up, he saw that it was a Bible. And not just any Bible, but _Washington’s_ Bible. An inscription on the inside page read:

_Important apocalyptic clues inside._

_Cheers,_

_General George Washington_

John sighed and then got to his feet. Carrying the Bible with him, he made it out of the cave and found himself surrounded by woods. He wondered if he’d made it to the year 2015. When he nearly got run over by a huge thing that he later found out was called a semi-truck, he figured the answer to that question would be ‘yes.’

Then he realized that if he was up and about, then so was the Hessian. Even though the man no longer had a head. Oh well, that would just him easier to find.

Turned out John didn’t need to find him. Twenty-four hours had not even passed and the Hessian already stole a horse and beheaded someone – a man in law enforcement. And John found out pretty fast that the people in this century took the killing of a lawman very seriously. He was in a jail cell before the night was out.

To John’s surprise, the person who came to interrogate him was not only a woman, but a black woman. She didn’t appreciate his question about her being emancipated. And to his annoyance she laughed when he told her his name.

“John _Hancock_? “Lieutenant Abbie Mills said. “The guy who signed his name really big on the Declaration of Independence?”

“How do you know about that?”

“I might not be dressed like I work at Colonial Williamsburg, but I did finish public school. Now tell me your real name.”

“I assure you, Lieutenant Mills, I am John Hancock. I ran a successful business in Boston, before Sam Adam’s rebellious activities bankrupted me. But, keep in mind, I fully supported his actions and was happy to finance them. Even though I lost all my good shoes. And I presided over the Continental Congress and signed the declaration of our independence from England. Which worked out, apparently.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What are you doing here in 2015 Sleepy Hollow, Mr. Hancock?”

“I’m here to stop the impending apocalypse with my friend Samuel Adams.”

“Of course you are.”

She turned to leave, but John called after her, “Your fellow lawman, he was beheaded with an axe. The wound was cauterized. The man who killed him didn’t have a head, and he had a tattoo on his hand.”

Abbie stopped. “How did you know that?”

“I know this man, Lieutenant. I beheaded him myself back in 1776. He is an agent of evil, the Horseman of Death. You must let me out of here so I can put an end to him.”

“You have a plan for killing a Headless Horseman?”

“I can’t do it alone. I need to get Sam Adams out of Purgatory.”

“You’re not making any sense, Hancock.”

“The answers are in George Washington’s Bible!” John said, pulling out a folded up piece of paper. “This is a map to Purgatory! This will lead me to Sam!”

“And then what? I doubt somebody can just leave Purgatory.”

 “I’ll use my witch powers to get him out.”

Abbie backed away. “Right. I just need to make a quick call to the nearest loony bin…”

“Just watch.” John pointed at the computer monitor at a nearby desk and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

The lieutenant gaped at the floating monitor. “Wow, how did you do that?! I’ve never seen such amazing magic in all my life!”

“I used my incredible witch powers. Now do you believe me?”

“I believe every word you said, Mr. Hancock,” Abbie said, unlocking the cell and letting him out. “Lead the way to Purgatory!”

Holding the map, John said, “We the penitent with humble heart, upon this threshold do summon thee in mirrored form appear a gateway to the world between worlds.”

The wall exploded in a flurry of slow moving glass shards, revealing the hallway into the dark wood beyond.

“Now what?” Abbie asked nervously.

“Now we find my fellow Witness.”

Together, John and Abbie stepped through the gateway into Purgatory. It was dark and there were screams in the distance. Before long they came upon a tavern, and sure enough that’s where Sam was. But he wasn’t alone.

“It’s been two hundred and thirty-nine _years_ ,” Dr. Warren was whining to a very bored and henpecked looking Sam Adams. “Surely you must be hungry now.” Kelly was pushing a plate of nachos under Sam’s nose.

Sam shrugged. “I suppose I could do with a bite.” He picked up a nacho and lifted it to his mouth.

“Sam, no!” John shouted, rushing forward. He smacked the nacho out of Sam’s hand and sent the entire plate crashing to the floor. “Don’t’ you remember?! If you eat their food then you’ll be stuck here forever!”

Sam blinked at him. “You never told me that!”

“Oh. Didn’t we?”

“No. You just pushed me in here. Speaking of which….” Sam socked John in the mouth.

“What the hell!” John complained, rubbing his jaw. “At least you weren’t painfully murdered. Which I was, by the way.”

“Serves you right. So can we go now?”

“Yes.”

Kelly tugged on Sam’s elbow. “Hope there’s no hard feelings. But we had to try and get you to eat. You were a tough nut to crack!”

“I thought for sure you’d go for that fried calamari,” Warren added.

“Did you decide if you were going for self-flagellating or rolling the boulder uphill?” Sam asked.

“We don’t have to do either. Trying shove food down your throat for two hundred years was penance enough.”

Then a heavenly light opened up through the ceiling, and Warren and Kelly floated up into it. “So long, Sam!” they shouted, waving.

When they were gone, Abbie turned to the two Witnesses. “Okay, so how do we get out of here?”

“I’m going to perform a very tricky spell,” John replied. “But you have to close your eyes for it to work.” When her eyes were closed, he added, “And I want you to put your hands over your ears and count backward from a hundred.”

Abbie started counting, and John moved away from her and quietly said, “We the penitent with humble heart, upon this threshold …”

“Can I open my eyes now?” Abbie asked.

“No, just a moment longer.” Then he continued in a hurried rush, “…Do summon thee in mirrored form appear a gateway to the world between worlds.” 

The door appeared, and John grabbed Sam and hustled him through it. They heard Abbie’s indignant shriek as the portal closed back up.

“What did you do that for?” Sam asked, looking around at the police station.

“The only way to get you out was to leave somebody else in your place.”

“That was mean.”

“It’s for the greater good,” John replied. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, and all that.”

“I don’t know about you, but I am dying for a pint.”

John grabbed an unopened bottle of beer off the desk. Looking at it, he snorted before handing it to Sam.

Sam squinted at the label. “Hey, is this a picture of _me_?”


End file.
